One night of ministry in Thailand involved a walk down Walking Street, a “tourist attraction” in Pattaya, Thailand (a city known as ‘the world capitol for child sex trafficking’)that reeks of sex, alcohol, idolatry, and exploitation. A couple of the girls who intern with Thrive Rescue Home joined us and warned us of what we were stepping into. They prayed over us and explained that the things we would encounter are much worse and more ‘in your face’ than what we’d already experienced on Soi 7 (the street that we’d done bar ministry on the night before). They comforted us in letting us know that we could choose to step away if, at any moment, we felt uncomfortable or uneasy in this environment. All of this being said, I jumped on a 10 Baht street taxi, after having dinner at the Night Market, and headed to Walking Street with the rest of the crew.
Arriving at our destination, we began a trek into the darkness. Less than 30 seconds in and we were approached by men & women soliciting “ping pong shows” and other pornographic attractions. The street is lined for about 1500 meters with clubs, bars, restaurants, and massage parlors – all using scantily dressed women to entice you to choose their establishment as your next stop for “good fun”. Every now and again I would look over and spot a patron having drinks with and caressing his most recent purchase – a bar girl whose face alluded to the fact that she enjoyed her company and current situation much less than he did.
Photo taken by Carly Marin
I saw women dancing in windows, advertising the “Sexy Russian Women” that were available inside. I saw a little girl, no older than 8 years old, being exploited by her parents, taking pictures with strangers and showing off her newest dance moves and hoola hoop tricks for money. I guess it was ok since her audience was made up of children as well (who brings their families to vacation in a place like this??!).
In the midst of all this, what surprised me more than anything was my reaction. I actually felt numb to most of it. I thought to myself, “My gosh, am I the worst Christian to ever walk the planet??” Here I am, in the middle of someone’s greatest nightmare, and I’m thinking about how it doesn’t surprise me at all. I wasn’t shocked senseless, as I thought I might be. I wasn’t caught off guard (too much) or traumatized. The Thrive interns were right about everything to expect as we walked down the street. However, for me, it was sadly a more visually stimulating version of scenes I’d watched in movies on TV; or even worse, scenes that I’d personally seen on the Las Vegas Strip or Bourbon Street. What I saw was sad, disturbing, and made my heart ache for the people directly involved; but, I was not compelled to reach out to the men and women working in these bars (If you haven’t already dismissed me as a phony Christian, Missionary, or both, I encourage you to continue reading).
Yes, I wanted to pray for the people I encountered, and I did as I walked up and down the street; but rather than being drawn toward those who were highlighted right in front of my face, I felt a burden for the quiet couple walking inconspicuously down the street. I wanted to talk to the group of friends who were simply enjoying a round of beers at the bar. I wanted to reach out to the people who I tend to call The Forgotten.
I’ve come to realize that no matter where you are in life, you know someone who can be identified as a forgotten. These are the people who are not crying out for help and the ones who you don’t give your attention to. They are neither your trouble makers nor your teacher’s pets. They get along just fine, sliding under the radar, and are pretty satisfied with their ability to “make it” without causing too many waves or ruffling any feathers. All they want to do is have fun and live a good life. I know this person far too well – this person was me.
I was the girl who’d slipped under the radar. I was the girl that just wanted to have a little harmless fun. I was the girl who could go on vacation and be completely unaffected by the blatant sin that ran rampant all around me. Regardless of what others thought of me; or better yet, regardless of how little they thought of me at all, God saw me as a lost soul. Even though I hadn’t made it to the priority of someone’s prayer list or a new organization’s focus group, God had never forgotten about me. He pursued me. He fought for me. He met me in my place of self proclaimed minor sins. He wants me to let you know, that …
HE SEES YOU TOO.
Because of this, I won’t stop praying for you.
Because of this, I won’t stop sharing God’s love with you.
I was blessed with the opportunity to dance on Walking Street (due to a brilliant idea from my teammate Carly – who chooses to not put God in a box) in hopes of shining the Light of Jesus throughout that dark place; and even when I danced, I danced as intercession for you. To be honest, I’m still a little unclear about how to serve you well, but God has laid you on my heart for a reason. He allowed me to be in your shoes for His glory. In the middle of everything else that was going on around me, He pointed my eyes toward you. He wants you to know that you are greatly cherished. You are adored.
YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN.
Dancing on ‘Walking Street’ for the Unforgotten Souls
